Misconceptions
by Onyrica
Summary: Because sometimes we pretend to be who we simply aren't. Because sometimes it's worth it to let the tide wash you away. [AU. Yaoi. LeonRiku , CloudSephiroth ]
1. Stupid Days

**Warnings**: This story involves homosexual themes, as well as mild-language and violence use in future chapters. If you are disturbed in any way by any of these contents, you might as well click on the "back" button of your browser. Now.

**Disclaimer**: Figures that someone would realize there's no real need for this anymore. If, by chance, you still have a doubt, none of these characters belong to me. Until further notice, that is…

**Note**: Chapter edited as of Wednesday, 14 of March. Corrected spelling mistakes, deleted dashes and wiped a few stains here and there.

Also, before you start the read, I'd like to ask of you: Please do read until the very end. Read the next chapter even. I'm new, but I try hard to make this right. If you've already stopped by to start reading, why not continue and let me know that my time was truly worth it? As selfish as it might sound, I value every read, every fave and mostly every review I get for my effort. I value it endlessly and it certainly helps me improve. So please, do try to bear with me for a while - I promise to do my best to make it worth your attention.

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_**MISCONCEPTIONS**_

**Chapter One: Stupid days.**

* * *

It was one of those stupid days.

The sort of day you wake up expecting to fall in the first ditch you find, or get washed up by a car speeding down a soaked lane. Or trip and spill the contents of a full coffee mug over your boss.

One of those stupid days when you find yourself whipping the floor clean, tile by tile, with a few squares of toilet paper, while the rest of the business crew snickers behind your propped up rear.

A day in which stupidity does nothing but ensue, when you feel someone clutch your butt with a steel-strong grip; then you hear a choral of giggles stream from a group of pretend-grown up girls, who surely think that smearing make-up all over their faces must somehow make them look older, whereas more attractive.

And, in the very core of hilarity, you simply can't keep yourself from thinking that things won't go any worse, fully aware that someway, somewhere, sometime… they certainly will.

Riku chose that moment to rise from the ground, just in time to catch one of the girls reaching down to pinch his ass for a second time. Aquamarine eyes stared unbelieving as the girl promptly retreated back into her seat, squeaking nervously while addressing Riku with a not-so-modest eyelash battering.

Indeed, it was one of those stupid days.

"Is there something these lovely ladies might need?" More hysterical giggles and suddenly, Riku felt the impending urge to throw up.

"Yes, well, you see, my shoes got sprinkled with the coffee you dropped Mister…" who seemed to be the leader of the troupe leaned towards Riku's chest, where a nametag flashed brightly.

"Riku, Mr Riku!" More eyelash battering. Urge to puke increasing. "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to clean them for me…"

Riku blinked.

"I could give you a sweet tip for your services later…"

Riku blinked twice.

Her breathy remark had left him speechless, blank, void of any creative ideas. As the girl shoved her foot into Riku's lap, all he did was absently stare at it, watching it wriggle hurriedly while wondering if he was seriously expected to do something.

"Mr. Riku, could it be, _like_, today?"

Figures - he was supposed to wipe a snooty girl's shoe clean, polish and make it shinny in all its thousand dollar glory.

Riku's eye twitched as the details of the plan sank in. His possibilities were strictly reduced: He could either be submissive and carefully treat the ugly foot that bobbed nervously in his lap, or he could take another course of action, one that would surely beat the record for the fastest way to lose a job.

Option one, option two, option one…

Riku flashed his best smile.

"Excuse me my lady, I beg your forgiveness for my despicable mistake upon dirtying your marvellous feet," straight away he realized that this person had never heard of the concept of sarcasm. Her eyes widened to the size of a CD as she flippantly beamed to the man before her. Riku resumed, "However, due to the lack of proper show polish, how would you like me to clean them up with my tongue? I hear it works wonders on suede."

Her smile didn't falter, but the look in her eyes gave away her doubts on the boy's offer.

"_At least we're making some progress; if she can manage to reboot her brain…" _However, Riku's ironic mood flattened as soon as the girl opened her mouth to reply.

"If you wish, Mr. Riku!" A toothy grin followed and Riku realized that he had killed every chance of making a quick retreat back into the kitchen.

He could still turn back and decide to play the honourable position of those who ignore the unceasing flow of stupidity; but his pride had been dented, and that was far worse than his sense of dignified rationality. Which could only mean trouble.

Riku just loved trouble.

"Look miss…" Clearly mocking the girl's previous intention of learning his name, Riku leaned over her chest, eyeing the imaginary tag that hung there, "Miss I-think-I'm-cool-but-I'm-not" – She gasped. One point for Riku.

"It's not my problem that you probably dropped out of school on your second year of kindergarden or that you probably find ignorance so blissful that you're surely feeling orgasmic." Breath hitching, facial color draining. Two points for Riku. Oh, glee.

"If your highness is so dense as to not understand the fact that I'm not going to lick those million penny slippers clean, no matter how tragic it is that they got dotted with coffee…" He pressed his palms against the table, narrowing his eyes to a pair of slits, "It points out that you have a serious problem. A mental problem. Get it checked."

He exhaled the breath he'd been holding during his long outburst and proceeded to back away from the foot that was still pressed against his legs. It had stilled, stopped in its wriggling and writhing and now remained suspended in mid air like a bird's perch.

Trailing up the stiff limb, Riku ventured into looking up at the owner's face and, for a split second, he wondered if he should actually be scared instead of amused.

"How dare you…?"

"Is that one of those questions I'm not supposed to answer?" Riku observed how the face in front of him contorted into a mask of utmost disgust.

"What gives you the right to treat me like this?!" She yelled. She was quivering like a feather, hands fisted over the table. Much to Riku's appreciation, her friends had cut with the annoying cackling and were now ogling at the show in play.

"What makes you think you have the right to ram your foot into my crotch?!" His satiric mood had all but faded, giving place to a much more serious turn of events.

"I'm your customer!"

"I don't recall you paying me for intimate services!"

"Who cares? You must follow the rules!"

"And since when do my rules include being a whore to the circus crew?!"

The argument had raised its tone to the point that everyone was still and quiet, expecting the outcome of the ongoing battle of sexes; a dozen pair of eyes were focused on the scene where a panting Riku and four incredulous face glared silently at each other, awaiting like animals for the first one to pounce.

"Did you call us… clowns?" A meek voice chimed in, not challenging, but rather dubious about Riku's last statement. The boy tilted his head and arched an eyebrow.

"Do you see anyone else sporting a smudged gay flag over her face?

The girl retracted and lowered her head timidly. The rest didn't move as much as a nail.

Riku heaved a long sigh and allowed himself to relax before giving an end to the argument.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" He spun on his heels to leave.

"I want to fill a complaint."

The boy stopped dead on his tracks, unsure of his hearing. Turning his head around, he addressed the person he'd been fighting with for the past minutes.

"You _what_?"

"You heard me. I want to fill in a complaint. Bring me your manager."

"_What_…?"

"**NOW**! Are you deaf?" Bring him now!" She was hysterical, crazed, lost on loony lane.

Riku was ready to snap back at her when he felt a hand tug at his shoulder. Brusquely turning his head around, he was surprised to find his red headed companion there.

"Riku, don't. It's no use." The voice of wisdom spoke, aiming for whatever little sense of logic the boy had in him. He simply stared at her, divided between the need to repair the damage inflicted to his pride and the cherish he might have had for his employment.

Kairi shook her head eagerly. Riku sighed in defeat.

"Fine, I'll bring the Big Man here." He looked over at the vicious looking set of harlequins who seemed overly anxious to meet someone who had the power to rip Riku to shreds.

As he left off for the serving room, Kairi proceeded to clean off the table where the girls schemed on what to say to the manager. Taking a quick glimpse of their faces, she understood where her friend's remarks came from: they certainly did look like a kid's first doodle on a canvas. They weren't pretty, they weren't nice and Kairi couldn't find a single reason as of why she shouldn't hate them.

Frantically rubbing the cloth over the table, she "accidentally" toppled over a glass, from where the contents dripped onto the leader's lap.

"Oh, excuse me! I'm so sorry! I'll clean it up for you."

"You… you stupid… you…!!!"

"Don't worry!" Kairi leaned over and proceeded to wipe the girl's skirt with the rag "You can complain about this to the manager too." She increased the pace of the wiping almost aggressively, noticing the other girl flinch and shift nervously.

Kairi lowered her voice to a mutter, "I bet he won't mind having a harlot grope his ass to make a better hearing of the events…"

The leader gasped and opened her mouth to retaliate, but the redhead was all too busy sprinting towards the service rooms to pay attention.

Meanwhile, Riku had made his way to the manager's office, dragging his feet painfully slow in hopes that the delay would somehow persuade the bunch of fools to leave. He spun around several times only to find his hopes smashed by the ominous presence of his bane still sitting there.

Somewhere along the way, he felt someone pull on his arm and ask for the bill. The voice was soft and low, like a soothing balm after the harpy's belching. Riku found himself being comforted by that smooth voice before he pulled himself together and simply nodded to the request without looking down. Afterwards, he sluggishly resumed with his slouched march.

Two tables ahead the high pitched voices of the angry gang filled the air like the discordant notes of a broken piano. They were still plotting revenge when a tall figure stood up to their vision line.

Instantly, they all drew their heads upwards, like chickens who've been distracted from picking on soil worms.

Gapping, they all gasped at once as they regarded the person staring at them.

With arms crossed over a broad chest, a man, a **very** attractive man, was nonchalantly shifting his weight from a leg to the other, while displaying a lopsided smirk and a casual air of confidence. His long hair was tied in a lose pony tail that hung neatly over his shoulder, where a wide collared, sleeveless turtleneck, was zipped open to reveal a slender neck and a pronounced collarbone. And a great deal of skin – mildly tanned, silky, perfect skin.

He shifted his weight again, and his low-hung jeans dipped even lower, exposing more skin over a shapely hipbone. One of the girls held her breath, while another choked on a barely concealed squeal. Another blushed while the leader of the lot suppressed a giggle before facing the newcomer with a beam plastered on her face. However, the grin slid to a twisted excuse of a smile upon noticing the long scar that crossed the handsome man's features.

"I understand you wanted to talk to me?" The low-pitched voice of the man broke the group from its reverie. Such a sexy voice too! If it wasn't for that scar…

"You… you are the manager?" She was surprised, surely having been expecting some older man with a beer-tank stomach and togged up in an apron saying "Kiss the cook".

"That I am. Leonhart, to please you." He nodded. The band seemed delighted with his presence.

"Amela, Amela Tresten!" She answered, offering her hand for a handshake that never came. Slowly, she pulled the clawed limb back over her lap.

"You see, Mr. Leonhart, one of your employees…" She pretended to recall the name, "Riku." as in queue, each one of them grimaced. – "He was rude to me. Awfully rude!"

"And what was the cause of such rudeness?"

The question had caught them off guard, having not expected to be asked for causes but consequences. Amela looked into the eyes of her subordinates before heaving an exasperated sigh.

"Mister Leonhart, his attitude was simply intolerable!" Drama was in the air, starting to be tangible. "I kindly asked of him to repair the damage inflicted by his ineptitude and he nastily refused to! He ruined my shoes, my expensive, pretty shoes!"

A foot shot up from under the table and Leonhart had to recoil before he got punted in the groin.

He frowned; the shoe could very well be expensive and of the latest trend, but it most certainly was an eyesore. A pricey atrocity of a foot wear, to which the coffee stains did nothing but improve its sorrowful appearance.

"Do you see, Mister Leonhart? And now I'm afraid that I might have to sue this little grocery…"

"Cafe." he pointed out.

"Yes, café, store, whatever." She dismissed the correction, unaware as Leonhart rolled his eyes, "The matter is, I must ask you to expel that insubordinate, Riku, from your little ghetto or I will see myself forced to take this through legal measures!"

Silence followed as the debaters held each other's gaze. Amela was already secure in her victory, as she impatiently tapped her foot against the tiles. In the meantime, Leonhart's face was a mask of nothing – of pure blankness and impossible indifference. Swapping his weight again with his other leg, he took a quick glance towards the offices before resuming his "exchange of opinions" with the Scooby gang.

"You see… Almond, right?" Her eye twitched, "I'm afraid I find myself unable to do that. Riku is one of my best workers, probably the most efficient employee I've had so far."

"The fact that he accidentally tripped and fell, dirtying those "shoes" in the process…" he air quoted the word, receiving no reaction or understanding looks whatsoever from the girls. He sighed. "Is certainly not an issue to take to court."

"But…"

"**And**, overall, refusing to clean them, after being groped and molested by a cluster of spoiled horrors, is perfectly acceptable. Likewise, legal."

"Nonetheless, if by any means you still have something to complain about, please do so!" He smirked coldly to no one in particular.

"Though, you can be sure that I'll take it upon my lawyers to plant a lawsuit over your air knitted heads before you can even get out of this place. I heard sexual harassment and labour abuse makes good money nowadays."

Leonhart's cool smirk dropped as fast as it had appeared, exposing his true irritation through a stony face and steel-hard, unforgiving eyes. The girls didn't move, didn't talk – didn't do as much as gawk and shudder in their seats.

"I… you… why… this…" Amela was the first to open her mouth, if only to babble a chain of disjointed nothings.

"The door is right over there." The stoic man pointed a finger towards the exit. "Might as well think of it as a favour."

At once, the four of them rose from the booth, gathered their belongings and sped off towards the coffee shop's exit like rockets on ignition.

Amela's knuckles paled under the sheer pressure of her grasp on the door that she held ajar, while she furiously spun around and addressed Leonhart with a dead cold glare.

"You'll hear from me again, I swear!"

"Heaven forbid I do." He waved a hand dismissively as her high heels clicked angrily out the door "You'd think they don't breed single-cell organisms anymore…"

He was speaking to himself as he took a seat on the now abandoned booth. Crossing his legs under the table, he turned around just in time to see the sullen looking boy come out of an office, followed by a man two times wider than himself, with a shinning lack of hair and a very disgruntled expression.

Shortly after, both men were standing besides the table they had been summoned to. Riku's eyes tripled their size as the change of scenario suddenly hit him: where the group of shrieking monstrosities had been the previous minutes, now sat a strikingly good looking man. A man who showed no sign of surprise or wonder as two individuals scrutinized him quietly.

Riku frowned and opened his mouth to speak when the stranger raised his hand to meet with the bald man's.

"You must be the manager of this place." He shook his hand in a short motion before pulling it back. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister…"

"Malore." The bald man nodded, "So, what is it?"

"_So much for common courtesy" _Leonhart mentally rolled his eyes.

"I just wanted to compliment this establishment of yours on its wonderful service. Not only the coffee is exceptional, but the workers are…" He glanced over at Riku who in time stared at him in disbelief. "Outstanding."

"Yes, well…"

"See, Riku not only served me almost instantly after my request, but he also dispatched every single customer's orders with amazing swiftness." By the confused look on the man's beady eyes, Leonhart took for granted that he was barely processing his words.

"Honestly, I'd consider giving him a raise for such an efficient effort." Leonhart watched amused as Riku ogled at him wordlessly, his face a puzzle of emotions. _Almost comedic_, he thought.

The manager swung his gaze between the two men, lacking of words to add in such an unexpected situation. He finally settled on Leonhart, whose deep blue eyes pierced like a piece of paper. The manager felt a jolt run up his back.

"I might just consider your suggestion for… someday. In the meantime, er… thank you for your valuable input on my shop and I expect to see more of you in the future." It sounded as if he had ripped his gratitude off the "How to deal with flattering customers" manual. Looking aside, the large manager curtly nudged Riku on the side.

"Thank you for your kind words sir, and I hope we can do so much more to improve for your satisfaction." Riku's voice was flat, like an answering machine recording.

Without a word, the manager strolled back to the safety of his office, leaving an abashed Riku with his saviour.

"You're welcome." Leonhart looked down at his hands over his lap to prevent himself from chuckling at the younger boy's stupefied look.

"I… you… where did they…?"

"I guess they had better things to do. I just let the door open for the dogs to leave the pound." Was his informal reply to Riku's unfinished question. He looked up to meet turquoise eyes scanning him for ulterior motives for his actions.

"I suppose I should thank you then…" Riku sighed and the older man was surprised to find no real feeling of relief in his words.

"Don't bother. You didn't deserve what you were getting." Leonhart shrugged.

"It happens all the time. One gets used to it." The boy ran a hand through long tresses, tugging at the band that held them together and setting the rest of his mane free. The action itself was casual and meaningless, but the brunet felt a strange knot tie itself somewhere deep into the pit of his stomach.

Such perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect everything…

Blinking, he washed the absent look off his eyes before Riku could notice.

"Is there anything I could get you, sir?"

He looked down at his watch, "Squall, not _sir._"

Riku nodded slowly, "Squall. Is there something you'd want?"

Squall raised his head and drew a mischievous smile on his lips.

Riku arched an eyebrow. Squall shook his head.

"I'm on a hurry. Now, why don't you bring me that bill I asked for like ten minutes ago?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **To begin with, I'd like to thank you if you've made it this far. I really appreciate you took your time to read my first attempt at anything serious regarding fanfiction!

You can see that this is another AU, Kingdom Hearts based fic, dealing with shonen-ai/yaoi couples in a not-so-ordinary background. Probably you'll notice right away that the characters I'll be using seem a bit OOC. It's intended; don't pull your hair out yet. It's all part of the plan!

As it is my first story, I doubt it'll have a large extension. Probably nothing bigger than 10 chapters. (And that's already saying a lot)

The pairings decided so far are: Leon-Riku, Cloud-Sephiroth. I'd say I know what the others, if any, are going to be but… I honestly don't know. Hard to decide whether I should insert a shoujo-ai couple or simply a hetero. one. Or more shonen-ai.

In any case, **I'd like to ask for some input on this**; do you like the story so far? Do you think I should continue? Anything you'd change or improve? Pairings you'd like to see? Want a cookie? Whatever you have to say is truly welcome – except flames. I eat flames and spit them back as bullets. You've been warned.

Also, English isn't my first language so you'll have to excuse any flaws you find. You can also point them out for me to correct. Or you can also be my beta if you've got nothing better to do and have high grammar standards. (Gotta love the hinthints)

In any case, I hope you've enjoyed so far and decided to stick with me for a bit longer. I'll do my best to make it worth the wait!


	2. Black Cinderella

**Warnings**: This story involves homosexual themes, as well as mild-language and violence use in future chapters. If you are disturbed in any way by any of these contents, you might as well click on the "back" button of your browser. Now.

**Disclaimer: **I'd laugh if the person whose characters I'm using would actually stop by and think about filling a lawsuit for the lack of a disclaimer. Just in case it happens though, none of these characters belong to me. Until further notice, that is…

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_**MISCONCEPTIONS**_

**Chapter Two: Black Cinderella.**

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Riku's shift had lasted fairly longer that day. 

It had, in fact, lasted more than 12 hours of non-stopping work.

The extra time had earned him a small pay in addition to his poorly rewarded salary. A pay that was more laughable than useful, but a pay nonetheless.

Lifting a pair of chairs over his shoulders, Riku walked over to the nearest table where he set them down. A soft hum behind him signalled the moment Kairi came out of the service rooms, taking off her apron and setting it beside Riku's.

"Leaving already?" Riku's voice was quiet, scarcely enough to make Kairi look his way.

"Figures. I've done enough for today," she replied, straightening her ruffled clothes. "What about you?"

Riku ran a forearm over his brow as his gaze swept the room thoroughly.

"I'm almost done. Just need to finish brooming behind the counter." He blindly reached out for the cleaning tool.

Kairi eyed him with a hint of concern on her pretty face. "You're too responsible for your own good. You know Malore wouldn't give a damn if we were swimming in a good three feet of shit."

"But I would." Riku smiled gently at the girl, who simply sighed her response.

"You're impossible."

"You know you love me."

She was now standing next to him, looking into his clear eyes; those eyes that could say so much more than an open mouth; eyes that would talk about their owner in more ways than he'd be willing to admit.

"You know I do."

Her voice was soft, but astoundingly firm, and the honesty of her words was so blatant that the young man felt his heart churn tightly.

Riku nodded and touched her face softly, sliding his knuckles across her cheek.

It was a kind gesture that needed no words to express the unspoken truths they both knew about each other.

Finally breaking out of the trance, Kairi stepped back and grabbed her bag from the counter. With her fingers entwined around its strap, she made her way to the exit and stuck her keys in the lock that secured the café at such late hours. Then, with a nimble jump, she flipped the two bolts down and pushed the door aside, barely giving herself enough space to go through.

Coming from the open doorway, Riku could feel the chill of the upcoming winter nights; although cold, he mentally flipped recalling his favourite season. His body, however, gave a quick, unhappy shudder as the hair on his bare arms started to stand up on its ends.

Kairi, who already had a foot stepping outside the coffee shop, turned around to face her friend, who still remained motionless, holding the broomstick to his chest.

"Are you sure you'll be going home anytime soon?" As soon as he nodded, she smartly pointed out, "One would say that you were looking forward to my leaving, so you could get intimate with that broom…"

Riku frowned, driving Kairi to bite her cheek to prevent herself from chuckling at the boy's 'articulate' way of showing annoyance.

"You just take care now. I wouldn't like to come back in the morning to find you strangled under the weight of a dozen rabid fangirls trying to rip your ass off."

"I fail to see the funny in that, Kairi." Riku's expression was all but a picture of sheer terror and revulsion. The girl broke in a fit of laughter as his face paled a hue or two, giving off the impression that he had become a glow-in-the-dark neon mannequin.

"Why is it something for you to worry about anyway, my dear Riku? I'm sure the lovely scarred prince of ice biting sarcasm would have no issues in coming to rescue you… again!" The mocking game was on now, and Kairi knew all too well that a prompt retreat into the streets would ensure her the upper hand for the time being. She swiftly pulled her head through the doorframe, leaving her hand behind to wave erratically at a very peeved Riku.

Shortly after, the cafe had regained its deadly silence as Riku remained the only inhabitant of the lonely place.

He strolled up to the counter and pushed the barstools aside to ease the cleaning. Absent-mindedly, he brushed the broom back and forth over the tiles, a pile of dust building up with every move. Some time later, he was still brushing past the aisle effortlessly, but the spaced out look in his eyes gave way to understanding that his mind had drifted far beyond, long ago.

Drifted to a place called 'Squall'.

Riku had to be honest with himself and admit that the older man had been a stunning shock to his eyes; he was elegant, striking, casually confident and downright sexy, among other things.

And of course, he had saved his sorry butt from being rammed out the door for the last time.

After the encounter, though, Riku had had the vague impression that they had already met, that the piercing steel-blue gaze had gone right through him before, if only in a dream.

He was engrossed in his fantasy once again, he realized. He tore himself from his reverie, washing the airy look from his face as he set the barstools back in their place.

Squall. Squall… what? It was such a rare name to match with a common surname. Squall Brown? Unlikely.

He idly decided that he'd ask him the next time he came around. Because there would be a next time… right?

Then again, what if he was just a random passer-by? What if he didn't even live in the city?

Lost in his musings, Riku discarded the thought as a logic call pointed out that a coffee shop located in the business center of the city would surely be the landing target of someone who worked in the vicinity.

So he was sure there would be a next time… but what would he say? Should he even say anything? Granted it would be wrong to approach a stranger like some pubescent kid with a platonic crush.

Besides, what if Squall was committed to someone? A girlfriend? A… boyfriend?

Riku yelped as the metallic leg of a chair smashed his toes. He had been unaware of his grip loosening from the heavy piece of furniture and it falling towards his foot. The impact, however, was enough to bring him limping back to the real world.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath as he crouched to rub his throbbing limb.

Glaring at the wicked chair, Riku settled for dropping the cleaning task off. He was way past too tired to be spending the rest of the night at his workplace, and he was convinced that if he kept on drifting, the next thing he'd know, after a sore foot, would be getting run over by a car as he strode along the highway.

A small backpack hung neatly from one of the perches in the service room. Riku grabbed a hold of it and slid the zipper open, dumping the contents over an old-fashioned bureau. He pulled a thin, tattered hoodie from below a set of keys, the remains of an old leather wallet and a bunch of newspaper cuts. Shrugging the clothing article on, he tucked the keys into his pocket and put the clips of paper and wallet back into his raggedy bag.

Setting the strap over his shoulder so that it crossed his chest, Riku walked silently to the main entrance, checking that everything was in order before he left the shop. He fumbled with his keys for a second before he found the one he was looking for – the master key of Malore's Café. Inserting the metal tool into the lock, he backtracked, pulling the door shut, and secured it with a double flick of his wrist. He drew the keys out and pushed them into his bag, jumped over the small flight of stairs and hastily marched across the dark street.

The city was dim-lighted and somewhat sinister at that time of the night. Normally it wouldn't have been the best of ideas to trek around at such late hours, knowing the sort of company one could wind up tagging along with. Riku was accustomed to it, though; he had been taking the same path home for years and was well aware of which routes were safe and which were better avoided.

That night, however, his confidence was dangerously close to vanishing. He had felt uneasy since he parted from the café, chills running down his spine ever so more often with every step he took.

His conscience nagged him with warnings, pressing at his common sense to quicken his pace, to take off running if necessary. He was sure now, certain that something wasn't right, that somehow there was more than just his footsteps resounding through the city's hollow darkness.

Riku clenched his fists around the strap of his bag and sped up his stride. He was tense, anxious and oddly thrilled about the nerve-racking situation he was in. His head was reeling with stray ideas, pointless assumptions of whatever could be haunting him – a thief maybe? It would be worth a laugh when he found out that Riku's wallet held more dust than cash. Perhaps a serial killer? The young man's face darkened when it occurred to him that, even if found, surely no one would give a rat's ass for his dead body.

Riku's mind raced downhill, narrowly avoiding the barricades of Rationality and Logic, and crashing right against the boulder called Courageousness - otherwise known as uncalled-for suicide.

Having made a decision, he hurriedly rounded the corner and pressed himself flat against the wall; taking a deep breath, he forced his voice to sound as steady as he truly was shaken.

"Whoever you are, get your gutless ass out into the light immediately!" Riku pretended that his bravery hadn't taken off in a sprint as he silently prayed that his invisible persecutor would in fact flout his demand and leave him alone.

A minute passed without response. He was starting to feel ashamed and rather stupid when a sudden rasping noise made the breath hitch in his throat. A soft rustling of clothes as someone moved away from the wall around the corner was all Riku needed to hear to know that he was in deep shit.

"You certainly have a knack for being unnervingly creative in the most inappropriate times." A low voice, followed by quiet steps nearing its target, had Riku detaching himself from the building he supported himself on, and focusing on his pursuer. A pursuer that came to a halt right in front of him.

A pursuer with Squall's face.

"You…?" Riku's eyeballs fought to fall out of their sockets.

"Me…" Squall watched the younger man open and shut his mouth wordlessly, like a dehydrating fish. "Who did you expect, Santa Claus?"

Riku didn't take the joke lightly. His brow was creased in a deep frown and his gawking had turned into a very, very angry glare.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted irately. "What sort of bizarre stalker are you? Chasing and ambushing me past midnight - do they think that's _normal_ on your planet?!"

It was Squall's turn to gape silently at the furious boy before him. Well, the little hunting scheme hadn't been the smartest idea, so what? It wasn't as if the kid would actually suffer a cardiac arrest from playing a bit of hide and seek!

"…lunatic…crazy bastard…insane sonuva'…!!!!"

Then again… maybe he would.

Riku frankly _did_ look like he was about to burst a vessel.

Squall sighed and leaned his weight over his right leg, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. He ducked his head and examined his boots as if it were the first time he saw them.

"I'm sorry."

The other was still hollering his annoyance to no one in particular, "…because I seriously doubt you could pull that stunt without being a mental asylum runaw…what?"

"I said I'm sorry." Squall looked up from beneath his bangs. "I really didn't mean to spook the shit out of you."

"Sure you didn't." Riku rolled his eyes, but the tone of his voice had dropped a few octaves, hinting that the apology had sunk in.

"I'm honest; it wasn't my intention to drag you down to a panicky heap." Squall ran a hand through his untied hair, tugging on a spiked end with a look that made him seem abnormally innocent and childish.

Riku just eyed him suspiciously.

"What ever are you doing after me, anyway?" he inquired.

Squall shrugged, "I hoped I could talk to you after today's events."

"And how did you know the time my shift would be over?"

"I didn't," he replied gently. Riku arched an eyebrow.

"You mean you waited out there 'til I came out?"

Squall nodded.

"You waited out in the cold for more than the four hours added to my regular working time?"

Squall nodded again, "Four hours and forty minutes. You sure took some quality time with the broom," he added.

Riku's eyes narrowed as he pressed a hand to his forehead. "Damn it, you are more of a freak than I had originally thought of."

Brushing his long bangs aside, the younger of the two stared into the eyes of the brunet, who regarded him with an expressionless look. Riku didn't know what to think of him, what to think of his intentions or the situation he had managed to create. He was confused and there was only one resolution that truly made sense in his head at the moment.

So he ignored Squall and the lost look of his face, as he pushed past him and resumed his speedy march home.

He should have figured though, that Squall wasn't one to desist without a fight. He should have known that he'd be hearing those long strides come to pace at a slower rhythm a few feet away from his back.

On the other hand, he should have also stopped denying the fact that he was secretly relieved to hear the other man's soft breathing somewhere close behind him. But that was just like Riku - to refuse believing Earth was round until they set him off in a space shuttle.

"What is it that you want?" he asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"I told you. I just wanted to talk after what happened today."

"I don't hear you making any effort to establish a conversation." Riku looked over his shoulder at the man who walked with his hands hidden in his jacket's pockets.

Squall had changed attires since their first meeting, he noticed. A white v-collared shirt replaced the sleeveless turtleneck from that morning. Over it, a leather jacket embraced his torso as the hands in the pockets tugged downwards; straps and buckles were fastened around the length of the sleeves, with little more purpose than decorating the expensive looking garment. Covering his long, slender legs were a pair of form-fitting dark jeans, also strapped up by several belts around the thighs, and on the feet that struggled to keep up with Riku's uneven march, a pair of black combat boots made the task easier.

Riku couldn't keep himself from appreciating the man's casual style and perfect poise in whatever costume and circumstance he starred in. He was quite certain that the brunet had been born breathing those airs of confidence and self-assurance that lingered about him on a ceaseless basis.

Regardless, he also admired the well-toned body and striking features that made Squall's presence all too bearable, all too pleasant… his lips, his nose and that delicate scar that traversed over it. His penetrating stormy eyes, shining with sharp intelligence and unfathomable thoughts; eyes that pierced through Riku's with an unreadable expression as they found themselves being the subject of an exhaustive evaluation.

"I don't appreciate being murdered with a glare." Squall replied to the boy's previous statement, drawing a lopsided smirk as he added, "But I guess I can learn to live with your staring."

Riku blushed faintly and quickly faced forward. He tried shutting down his senses, but Squall's presence was just too compelling to ignore.

"You might want to say whatever you have in mind before the crack of dawn." As much as he wanted to convey nothing but indifference, his voice had sounded rather keen on hearing the older man's words.

Riku mentally slapped himself.

"Why did you put up with that crap this morning?" Squall finally spoke, bringing up the hectic condition of their meeting.

"Like I had a choice…" he responded, somewhat brusquely.

"You could have avoided the argument by leaving them to squabble on their own."

"I actually had other tables to serve; they would have harassed me anyway."

"Why not ignore it then?"

"Why not fight back and get over with it instead?"

"Because you could have lost your job to a bunch of whores making a racket to that grovelling manager of yours."

"So what? I could have found something better fast enough."

"I doubt it."

"I don't."

"I do. The same way I doubt you wouldn't have cared about loosing your actual employ."

"Hey, are you my fucking heaven-sent patronizer or what?!" Riku blared, turning on his heels.

It would have been a lie for Squall to say that he hadn't expected the younger man to blow up after he prodded in the open wound. It would have also been untruthful to admit that it was merely coincidental that he had stopped close enough to Riku's back, so that when he spun around they were barely a breath apart.

"I'm only trying to break some common sense into that hairy head of yours," Squall said quietly, idly twirling a lock of Riku's hair around his finger and tugging lightly.

"I don't need you to teach me morals, thanks…" Riku took a tentative step backwards, only to find a strong arm pulling him back into a lose embrace. He set his own arms as a barrier between their chests, unsuccessfully trying to pull himself away as smooth fingers skimmed over the nape of his neck.

"I won't teach you anything that you don't want to learn, Riku."

His name, it was the sound of his name with that low baritone voice, through the short intakes of air that came in raspy breaths wonderfully close to his ear, that made him go limp, and void of any objections, in the older man's arms.

How he could be such a flabbergasted pansy, he didn't know. The way he would be willing to give himself to a total stranger, he didn't know either, and he didn't do much to care anyway as he looked up into the electric blue eyes above him; Squall was observing him, analyzing more likely. His penetrating stare only helped in increasing Riku's blush by a tenfold, heating the pale boy's face up to the very tip of his ears.

"W-what…?" He tried to sound mildly imposing, frowning as he felt Squall's scanning gaze all over him.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Squall retorted almost inaudibly. "Riku, I…"

He looked like he was choking on his words for the very first time in their acquaintance.

"I would like to get to know you better." He finally finished, waiting for a reaction from the boy in his arms.

Riku contemplated the words for a minute, deciphering all the implications of Squall's request. So an unfamiliar guy with strange stalking habits and no more signs of identification than a cryptic name had just asked him to get personal on a whole new level. Very average indeed.

With a single strong push, he shoved the brunet away from him, almost falling on his backside as he stumbled away from the effort he had put into the move. Quickly regaining his balance, Riku spared a glance towards the other man, who simply stood there, looking utterly confused.

"I don't know who you are." Riku rubbed his temple, scowling as he tried to find any logic in the ongoing situation. "I'm not even sure of where you get the nerve to come up to me with this. You've got no idea about me!"

"Riku Adrame, nineteen years old. You've been working at Malore's Café since you were fifteen, not because you like the place, or because it actually pays enough – you simply enjoy the warmth it has to offer to customers and workers alike. Your friend, Kairi Oren, eighteen years old, was the one who offered you the job, which you accepted without doing any research on it whatsoever."

"You say you wouldn't care if you got fired when you actually know you would. The café is likely to be your second home, possibly first if it's up to comparing the time you spend at each place. The extra hours don't pay that well either, but anything is better than going home alone to wait until your shift is up again."

Riku's jaw was inches from hitting the pavement. He raised a trembling finger and stepped out to interrupt, but Squall was faster in continuing his dead-panned monologue.

"There hasn't been a relationship in your life for as long as you can remember. Not because you're unsuccessful in that aspect, but because you've never thought about giving it a try. Why? You catch me, I have no idea. But I'd definitely like to find out."

The abashed-looking boy didn't have time to react as a swift arm found its way back over his waist. That time, however, the strong limb drove him roughly against the nearest wall, trapping him between the solid construction and glaring cobalt eyes.

"Don't tell me I don't know you Riku. Don't say I don't know anything, because I do, probably much more than you do yourself." Squall's words came out as short, panted breaths and the truth in them was painstakingly evident.

Riku tried pulling away again, his effort proving to be futile as the other man held him still with an iron grip. As if to make his point clearer, Squall pinned the boy's other wrist to the wall and pressed himself closer so that their noses were barely an inch away from touching.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Let go of me, you sick bastard!" Riku didn't stop struggling, regardless of the little space he had to do so.

Squall sighed dejectedly, having expected no less of an outburst for the course of his actions. He didn't loosen his grasp on the boy as he subtly pulled a folded paper from his sleeve and placed it inside Riku's hoodie pocket.

"Why won't you leave me alone?! I don't want anything to do with someone like you!" With eyes tightly shut, Riku kept thrashing and moving about with all he had.

Squall couldn't hide the hint of disappointment that shrouded his face as he abruptly moved away, leaving Riku to get a hold on himself with the wall as only support.

"I'm sorry," he said, not quite sure if he truly meant it.

"Yeah, you keep saying that," Riku replied, clearly annoyed.

Pushing himself off the wall, the younger man backtracked focusing solely on Squall's still figure. The brunet watched as he extended a menacing finger towards him, eyes narrowed to two dangerous slits. Heaving a long sigh, he tried again.

"I mean it; I didn't want to…"

"Shut up. Shut up and forget about me," Riku interrupted him brusquely. "Just start by getting out of my sight and out of my life, for instance! I don't know you and I don't think I want to either, so just leave me the fuck alone!"

And without as much as a second glance back, he took off running in a full speed sprint until he was engulfed by the avenue's increasing darkness.

Out of resources and blank of ideas, Squall could only stand in the cold and stare after Riku's fading form as the irony of it all shaped itself in a single lame notion:

"There goes my Cinderella..."

* * *

The apartment was silent and cold upon entering; as per usual there was no one to worry about making the house warm enough to have his return be a pleasant one. 

Carelessly dropping his keys inside an unused ashtray, Riku turned the living room lights on, one by one. Looking around, he realized the state that his house was actually in: blankets lying everywhere, torn papers all over the floor, more dirty plates and glasses on the table than in the kitchen cupboard…

It made him wish he hadn't even turned the lights on.

"Hell, what a headache…" he muttered to himself as he rubbed his scalp with the side of his hand.

Stepping over a pile of clothes sprawled against the walls, Riku entered his bathroom, and tipped the switch upwards. As on cue, he almost jumped back and tripped over the shower plate when a foreign image appeared before him. An image that took a few seconds to sink in as his own.

He looked at himself in the mirror, at the deathly-looking counterpart that watched him apprehensively through long thick bangs of disarrayed hair. He watched those turquoise eyes swirl with emotions unveiled to no one but himself. He pretended to be oblivious to that face, the mug of someone who blamed him for what he was now, what he had chosen to become. He wanted to believe that it was all a fake; that the blame, the emotions and the ghostly image leaning over the basin were all a lie.

Because they were nothing but that. Because he was alright, he was always alright, he would always be alright! Nothing or no one would have a chance to see him crestfallen if everything was fine.

Riku ran a spread hand over his forehead, grasping the front of his mane and pulling unnecessarily hard, so that his eyes were now clear and on level with those of his reflection. He vaguely noticed how thin he was and how his cheekbones stood out more noticeably than ever. Then again, he realized it was probably due to the dark tresses that framed his face.

Yes, that was probably it. In essence, black did make most things seem thinner. Surely black hair had the same effect as well.

Letting go of his bangs, Riku rose from the sink and reached a hand out for the light switch. He took a second before pressing it, though.

One more second to laugh inwardly at the puny, hilarious picture of the boy-ghost and his messy black hair. And his black thoughts. And his black heart.

And his black future with no one but himself - alone.

With a quick flick of his finger, Riku turned the lights off.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Bow to the almighty Me, for I defeated Procrastination!! 

So a week later and we have a new chapter of Misconceptions. Not bad for someone who wouldn't save her life from a fire if it meant getting up from bed now, and not later…

As priorities go, I'd like to thank you if you've read down to this point. It truly makes my day to see how many hits this meek fiction can get in its first try. (Chapter one has reached 120 hits on the first week! That's simply great enough for a newbie like me.)

Then again, you know what really makes my day? To receive wonderful reviews like the ones I got from **ChibiFrubaGirl, The Glass Slipper, Rabid Behemoth and Casmut **on the first instalment of this project. I'm honestly grateful to no end for the kind words and encouragement!!

Also, a very special thank you goes to the aforementioned **The Glass Slipper,** as she kindly offered to Beta for my story. And well, I just can't say it enough times I guess: **Thank you!!** It has really helped me improve with this chapter, and I'm sure the readers will notice the helpful input I've received with it.  
-Talking about which, have you stopped to read her stories? Have you?? If you haven't, **GO NOW! **You still don't know what you've been missing!  
Then again, if you have… just go re-read! You can never get tired of such quality writings.

So about the chapter… nothing much to say, honestly. Just that whatever you've read in it has been considered and purposefully made to be that way. And yes, I mean Riku's sissy mood swings, and Leon's not-so-subtle way of making a move…and the black hair!! Oh the black hair!! –faints-

So yeah, please bare with me. I'm sure it'll make sense eventually! (I think...)

-Finally, I'd like to invite people to press that lovely purple button on the lower left corner of the screen and leave me a small note that lets me know if this has been worth the wait or if it's even worth taking further.

Because reviews make the author happy. And they make Riku and Leon happy. And they also make the Cloud/Sephy goodness in the next chapter get here faster and better!

So please, will you? If not for me, do it for poor Emo!Riku!

**Riku**: I kill you.

(Hell, I should make these A.N shorter… -mopes-)


	3. Sunny Moons

**Warnings**: This story involves homosexual themes, as well as mild-language and violence use in future chapters. If you are disturbed in any way by any of these contents, you might as well click on the "back" button of your browser. Now.

**Disclaimer:** I owns cookie. You owns cookie? You don't owns cookie. And I don't owns characters. How sad be that? At least I have cookie…

**Note**: Chapter edited as of April 7, 17:20 Pm. Just now I found out about FF-net's policy of deleting anything that looks like a website's url, so there were multiple parts that didn't make sense due to the lack of a certain couple of words. It's been fixed: the words are now separated by a dash instead of a dot. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**_MISCONCEPTIONS_**

**Chapter Three: Sunny Moons.**

* * *

It was a sunny morning. 

A sunny and perfect morning, with birds chirping in the trees, children playing in the park and angry people with hangovers hiding behind a pair of shades.

Angry people that had groaned when the alarm-set radio had broken the early silence of a poorly slept night. Angry people that had growled when the coffee machine had decided to spurt a thick black blob of some undetermined substance as its dying pledge. **Very** angry people who had bellowed their annoyance to no one in particular when the garage door had been resolute on remaining closed and unmoving as its owner had tapped the control energetically enough to ignite a flaming torch on his finger.

It was a sunny, perfect morning, and Cloud already hated every passing second of it.

He was hurriedly marching towards the nearest taxi stop with hands balled in tight fists at his sides and a deep scowl marring his features; the sky might have been blue and the air fresh, yet, as far as he was concerned, Cloud wasn't giving a shit for such a lovely day after his dreadful awakening and the lack of caffeine to make up for his bad mood.

And because he was such a pessimist, he knew all too well that when Karma pounded you out of bed with a mauling headache, it just wasn't about to deliver an enjoyable day at your doorstep.

Expecting a cab to stop before him anytime soon, he leaned his weight against a streetlamp and tilted his head upwards to sniffle at the clean, Monday morning air; the fragrance of dew and freshly born leaves invaded his senses, mildly clearing his dulled mind from the powerful hangover throbbing. It was refreshing to feel the breeze carry the rich variety of scents into his tired lungs – the strong odours of nature, purity and… strawberry flavoured candy.

Cloud cringed, disgusted with the pungent smell that reached his nostrils. Slowly, he lowered his head until his gaze met a still figure at the height of his knees; a child, he noticed. A child sporting a toothless grin that belied the apparently innocent expression on his face.

The blond lowered his sunglasses an inch over the bridge of his nose, peering at the beaming kid over the rim, who just chuckled and extended a signalling finger outwards. Cloud arched an eyebrow and followed the pointer on its direction towards the hem of his pants… where a red lollipop was neatly stuck.

The brat giggled and took off in a sprint, leaving Cloud to wallow in the misery of being unable to answer as a taxi suddenly made its halt right next to him. Anxiously scuffling with the cab's door handle, he heard the driver shift in his seat to check him out through the opened window.

"Where to, sir?" he asked politely.

"Central Avenue. Fast," came Cloud's curt reply as he dipped into the car.

The driver faced the steering wheel and watched the incomer accommodate himself in the mirror as he pretended to adjust it. With a short shrug, the man pulled the car into the lane and sped down in the indicated direction.

Behind him, Cloud watched the city scroll by with his forehead pressed against the glass. He pulled back an inch and pushed forward again, a soft thump reverberating as his head made contact with the pane. Recoiling, he bumped the window once more, and another time after the first, and yet over and over again, until the driver, who was starting to feel insecure in regards to the sanity of his latest passenger, turned his head around and spoke up.

"Lovely day, isn't it, sir?" The man's attempt to establish a light conversation was promptly retorted with a quiet grunt from the back seat.

However, feeling undeterred, the young taxi owner kept on chattering as if the growl had actually invited him to proceed with the monologue. Cheerfully going on about the idiosyncrasy of spring weather, he failed to notice as Cloud rubbed his temple and mournfully scowled to himself for not avoiding such a foresighted taxi-moment.

"…of course, you'd say it's because of global warming, but I think I have the final solution, yanno'? If we would just put a bit of…"

Cloud groaned yet again and hung his head in defeat, resigned to the fact that he'd have to endure a good thirty minutes of such trivial natter and gossip. From that position, his eyes fell on the spot where the garnet candy was still perched in all its sticky glory, the sharp stench of it still lingering about. Grimacing, he reached down to tug at the small baton, detaching it from his pants and tossing it over his shoulder and out of the car. The icky odour seemed to diminish slightly, allowing Cloud a second of peace before it was disrupted by the man whose reflection was on the rear-view mirror, watching him attentively. He had probably asked some question that had passed unheard by the inquired subject.

"Sir? Are you there, sir?"

"What is it?" Cloud grudgingly conceded, his courtesy all but forgotten.

The driver blinked and swallowed through the growing lump in his throat, "I was wondering if you'd support the IDT-K5 program that Sunny Corp. is sponsoring."

Cloud remained impassive, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I just… I… well, I thought you would have been listening to me…" The man's voice sounded faintly bitter, and the blond felt a sudden jab of guilt hitting at his conscience.

"I'm sorry, eh…"

"Terez. Wakka Terez."

"Sorry, Wakka, I just got up on the wrong side of the bed. I didn't mean to… you know." Cloud's apology seemed to sink in almost instantly as the man named Wakka recovered his joyful appearance all too quickly.

"Oh, it's okay sir! Really, I know what it feels like, yanno? See, my girlfriend has this odd mood swing issue going on and it's like…" Much to Cloud's dismay, Wakka resumed his fast paced soliloquy as if nothing had been said to deter him from continuing.

Pinching the bridge of his nose from under his shades, Cloud settled on never grabbing a taxi again, regardless that his life would be pending on it; surely dying couldn't be any worse than hearing some stranger's fetish with his girl's pink underwear.

He cocked his head just in time to see the young man speaking to him again, while one of his hands left the wheel to rummage inside the cabinet. The blond ogled him suspiciously, idly wondering if he'd make it to his office in one piece as his driver was actually steering with a single hand and his eyes fixed on whatever he was searching for.

"…but of course they don't like it like that, do they? I mean, what the hell!? They could just say it out loud and get it done with! But of course they can't. They just can't! Because they can't, can they?"

"Uh, of course, they can't…" Cloud had no clue of who couldn't do what.

Even so, Wakka seemed satisfied with the answer he received, nodding energetically as he drew his arm back from the cabinet and focused on the road ahead. Cloud sighed in relief.

"That's what I always say! But naturally there's no way they would admit it and because of that…" Wakka unwrapped the item he had pulled out of the cabinet and flipped it into his mouth, "…it'f impoffible to figure owt thweir nweeds, you gwet //_pop/_/ meh?"

Bubblegum. Wakka was chewing and popping on a thick chunk of bubblegum. Reeking strawberry flavoured bubblegum.

Cloud had never felt so close to bursting into tears.

------0------

"Good morning, Mister Strife!" greeted a young woman who sat behind a bureau as sliding crystal doors granted access to a very sour-looking blond.

"Morning," he muttered back, approaching his secretary, "any mail?"

She nodded shortly and brushed her foot to a side, kicking a small cardboard box from beneath the desk. Picking it up, she pulled out letter after letter, checking the names of their rightful owners.

"Oh, by the way, Larxene, from Destiny-Org called," the woman announced, still occupied with discarding the parcels whose recipient weren't Cloud. "She said that a representative from their company would be arriving early today at the airport."

"Exactly how soon is 'early today'?" Cloud suspected that he'd barely have enough time to make himself decent for a public appearance.

"Considering she called like two hours ago…" She finished stacking the letters, levelled them against the desk and held them out towards the blond. "I'd say, more or less, in an hour."

And thus, Cloud's suspicions were confirmed.

Growling throatily, he brusquely snatched the envelopes from the hovering hand and made his way to the elevator, ignoring the wide-eyed look on the woman's face.

"M-mister Strife, sir…" She stood up, reaching out to stop her boss.

Cloud spun around and took off his glasses in one swift motion, revealing the dark shadows that pooled under his worn-out sapphire eyes. The secretary pulled back an inch, startled by the man's unearthly appearance.

"Uh…it's just… eh…" she babbled, intimidated by the glare that threatened with splitting her in half.

"Today." Cloud cut in rudely.

The woman made a large intake of air, "Sir, how will you know who it is, once you're at the airport?"

His eye twitched.

So she had a point; it's not like he had tried asking for any details concerning the person he'd be picking up in less than fifty minutes. Then again, names wouldn't do him any good as his plan didn't consist of snooping through people's private space in order to identify them. Instead, he reassured himself that his own methods would be infallible.

"Fine, what does he look like?" he asked. The young woman arched her eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm not sure, sir; they didn't say much…"

"They _had_ to say something!" Cloud pushed.

"Well…" The secretary tilted her head upwards, trying to recover such hazy bits of information. "She mentioned something about having white hair, despite a truly juvenile appearance and…"

"'kay, that's all I need to know." He brushed her off with a wave of his hand and a quick retreat into the elevator as the door slid open. Looking back, though, he regarded the stunned woman with a sympathetic look as he resumed, ever so much more politely, "Thank you, Tifa."

"No problem… Cloud." She waved an idle hand at the closing metal door before plummeting back into her seat and spinning it round a couple of times.

Vaguely aware of her lack of composure, Tifa pursed her lips in a think-line and damned herself for being unable to find a job where she wouldn't be treated like a door mat; stepped on, rubbed on - even kicked around by those who decided to awake with their ass tied up in a knot.

She damned herself and herself alone, for being unable to confess the feelings that constricted her chest every time the object of her affection was nearby. For holding down the words that fluttered in her head whenever he spoke to her, questioned her, needed her…

The words that, much to her own chagrin, would probably have her searching for another employment as soon as they were let loose.

So she settled for silence. Eternal silence for the aching heart.

Because, even if being a tissue to a company of ill-tempered people was annoying, anything was better than punching a way through bandit-infested streets, earning less than a penny for every droplet of her own spilled blood.

Two floors above, Cloud rushed out of the elevator holding a set of unfolded letters to his eyes. Strolling towards his office, he gracefully avoided the unseen obstacles in his way as he shuffled through the papers in his hands.

Four corridors and three corners later, he found himself in front of a crystal panelled door with his name neatly framed on it. Blindly reaching out for the handle, he was surprised to find no resistance as the door swung open on its own, hinting that the room had been occupied before his appearance.

Unalarmed, he continued into the room, papers still on level with his examining gaze. Grabbing a cup from a nearby shelf, he slipped it into the hollow of a coffee machine and pressed the button for an espresso; shortly after, the room was filled with the beverage's aromatic steam.

With both the cup and letter in hand, Cloud moved around his desk and plopped down on his rolling chair, shifting a bit until he found the right spot. He sipped from his cup once, eyes fixed on the text he pretended to be reading. He sipped again, and again, and many more times, to the point where there wasn't much more than air to drink from.

And then, with no more excuses left to keep on ignoring the foreign presence in the room, Cloud lowered the cup and looked over the rim of the pages.

"I'll give you a second and half to explain your reasons for skipping work." He spoke with a dangerous calmness to his voice.

"I missed you…" was the soft answer from the brunet sitting across him.

Cloud gaped for an instant and then creased his brow in a deep scowl.

"You made that up," he spat.

"True, but you actually fell for it." The other man gave him a lopsided smirk and crossed his legs so that his ankle rested on top of his left knee.

"You're as funny as a stab in the groin, Leonhart," the blond mumbled, annoyed.

Squall simply shrugged and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back slightly so that his shirt rose barely an inch over his skin. Cloud flinched inwardly as the view of that tan, worked-out stomach filled his vision for a split second.

He was so damn sure that it hadn't been coincidental…

"I'm still waiting to hear why, exactly, did you think that breaking into my office during your work schedule would be appreciated."

"Well, wasn't it a surprise to find me here?" Squall tried, looking at the bad-humoured man.

"No," he said flatly, "I'd very much rather Death surprising me than you."

Squall feigned hurt and sighed heavily, "Cloud, you hurt my feelings!"

"You don't have any of those."

"Ah, but I can surely buy a few over the internet…" the metallic-eyed man replied, nonchalantly brushing his hair back with both hands.

Cloud's eye twitched visibly as he fumbled nervously with the papers, "I don't have time for this crap…"

He tried ending the conversation by averting his attention to the documents he held, but his attempt was soon declared unsuccessful as a hand slapped the bills and notes back over the desk.

"Remove that limb from my table or I'll cut it and use it as a paperweight." Cloud spoke softly, venom lining every word.

However, the warning fell on deaf ears as Squall did nothing to budge from his position.

"I need a favour," he said.

"How could I not foresee that…" the blond muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Cloud…"

"What the hell is it?!"

Slamming his hands hard against the wooden surface, Cloud jumped from his chair and pushed himself forward so that his face was barely a foot away from the brunet's.

Squall, far from being intimidated, just stared at him impassively, his smirk dropping to be replaced by a stony look from narrowed indigo eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck is your problem, Strife, and I really don't care about finding out either," his voice no longer held an amused tone to it, but the flat, rigid drone of an imminent threat, "but you're **not** venting it out on me."

Cloud felt his confidence oscillate under the weight of the other man's steel-hard gaze; yet, with his pride being on stake, he dared to open his mouth to reply as he tilted his head slightly aside, "Funny, I could swear that up until a second ago I was the boss here."

"The boss here has a serious mood swinging issue that I'm not willing to cope with," Squall stated rather bluntly.

Quite disconcerted with the replies he was receiving, Cloud had no choice but to recoil and sit back down in silence. Hanging his head in what seemed to be defeat, he brushed his bangs aside and rubbed his forehead several times. Meanwhile, Squall just watched him neutrally but, by the way that his glowering had softened into a condescending look of sympathy, it was clear that he understood the blond's restlessness that morning.

"What did you want?" the weary man finally conceded, his hangover-induced irritability worn out by exhaustion.

"I need the day off," Squall commented unceremoniously.

"Again?!" Cloud pulled his head out of the hollow of his hands to gawk disbelievingly at the shrugging man.

"It's important."

"That's what you said the last ten times you asked for a day off..."

"This time it really **_is_** important," Squall pressed.

"…And that's what you said about each of them after I fell for the first one," Cloud concluded, frown returning to mar his face.

Pocketing his hands in the back of his jeans, Squall started pacing around the room, nervously huffing while glancing at the blond ever so often.

Cloud was pretty much right when he accused him of missing work all too often; surely any other boss wouldn't have been so permissive about such a lack of regularity. Then again, another boss probably wouldn't have had the history Cloud had with him, and that was, much to the blond's mortification and to Squall's advantage, what kept his workplace safe and assured… for now.

Resolute in obtaining what he wanted, the brunet strode across the office and around Cloud's desk, laying a hand down and positioning himself so that he was practically hovering over the other man's ear.

"Cloud…I'll make it up to you, I promise," he whispered, his breath caressing the side of the man's face.

Stunned by the sudden proximity, Cloud could barely conceive the words without the seductive tinges embedded on them. Sparing a glance aside, his eyes fell on the cobalt pools that stared at him less than an inch away; electric-blue irises that bore into his like icy spears, navigating through his thoughts at their own word. Somehow, Cloud knew he should feel disturbed, uncomfortable with the connection established by the extreme closeness and the unyielding silence; still, with his awareness dulled by the waves of human heat emitted by the body next to him, he was all too willing to let himself go down with his emotions, with his senses – to let himself drown in those eyes that were scrutinizing his reactions thoroughly.

Those eyes that were practically examining him like some laboratory's specimen.

Gradually regaining his composure and alertness, Cloud fought back the giddy haziness he'd have been so content to give into the prior second; making a not-so-subtle intake of air, he gulped twice and pulled himself to sit upright.

"Are you okay?" Squall asked, his voice no longer a murmur.

"…fine, just fine," replied Cloud, as he tried to conceal the increasing blush on his cheeks.

"So, about the day off…"

"Do whatever the hell you want. It's not like anything I say will actually make a difference…" Running a hand over his brow as if checking out for a possible fever, the blond man looked up to meet a smug-looking Squall.

"I promised, I'll make it up for you," he confirmed yet again. Cloud rolled his eyes.

"Go buy a manual as of how to be more creative, Squall. You're sucking up on those old, overused oaths."

"Maybe I'll get around to fulfilling any of them someday, go wonder." Squall detached himself from the other man's back and headed for the exit.

Sighing in relief from being unburdened of the brunet's weight and presence, Cloud watched as the man made his way to the door, stopping briefly to pull it open.

"Do me the favour – tell Roxas to assist to the reunion in my place and fill me in with the contents tomorrow, okay?" Squall turned back to regard the man sitting behind his desk as he requested to ask the service from his younger co-worker; he recalled owing the boy for quite a few errands already, for which he was certain that one more time would probably earn him a very disgruntled associate.

Then again, Squall could live with that.

Especially when it would be Cloud delivering the news to the unfortunate kid.

"Just remind me of _why_ did I hire you in the first place…" the blond questioned, almost rhetorically, as he checked his subordinate warily.

"Because you had the hots for me," was the flatly honest reply.

"Ah yes… _that_ mistake." Shaking his head slowly, Cloud dismissed the man as he backtracked out of the office, pulling the door shut with him.

With nothing but silence to accompany him in his office, he finally allowed himself to lean back and surrender to the calm after the storm, to the peace, to the quiet…

…to the ticking wall clock that announced the imminent arrival of Destiny-Org's visitor and the belated reception he'd probably find if Cloud didn't start moving that very instant.

Inwardly grunting at his horrid luck that morning, the blond scraped his nails along the slick surface of his desk and rose from his chair. Brushing all the papers down into a drawer, he picked up his coffee mug and walked over to the small bathroom attached to his office.

He dropped the porcelain recipient in a sill near the basin as he watched his mirror image carefully. Eye bags, check; greyish hue to his skin, check; permanent scowl and slouched shoulders, check; conclusion: he looked like shit.

Simply perfect for an important meeting.

Instinctively reaching out for his wrist, he twisted his watch so that the clock faced upwards. He hung his head to examine it and realized that he barely had fifteen minutes left to get to the airport.

By foot.

Just because he had vowed to never let himself get caught inside a taxi again.

Irony had the funniest way of thrashing one up with the use of his own words.

------0------

The airport, as suspected, was crammed with people.

People of all sorts – people leaving, arriving, crying or smooching their lovers until they sucked the life out of them…

Hordes of people in a rush, hurrying to catch that plane that had been announced to be departing in the prior minutes. They pushed past other people, who shouted irately as their belongings were tossed and scattered around the floor. And then more people ran by, some stepping on the items, some kneeling to pick them up, some tripping over them and falling on their backs and some just staring from a distance at the ongoing commotion.

Cloud was not amused; human recklessness was not something he liked to entertain nor involve himself with. Standing a few feet away from the fuss, he scanned the area repeatedly, searching for white layered heads and juvenile faces among the masses.

So maybe asking for other details would have been a good idea after all. He had seen young faces framed by hair of all the colors in the spectrum and snowy manes covering features in which youth shined by its absence, but as far as it came to putting both qualities together, he had yet to see any vestige of something that resembled it.

Unfortunately, Cloud's patience was running far too low to have the least bit of tolerance towards the wait.

He had walked halfway to the airport and practically jogged the other half as the fifteen minutes had proved to be less than enough to get there in time. He wasn't sure of what the visitor would think of him if he got there late and wheezing like a deflating balloon, but, regardless of all that, he was still _not_ picking a damn taxi.

However, upon his arrival, he had been surprised to find no one waiting for him; no one looking confused and lost or expectant of someone holding a banner with his name. No one with washed-out hair and a kid's face. No one at all.

And thus, Cloud was pissed. Royally.

"I should have sent Tifa to stand here like a growing pine tree…" he bristled to himself, tossing his jacket over his shoulder.

He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and opened the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing a slender neck that lead down to a mildly pronounced collarbone and a hint of flat, well built chest; of course, with the way he'd been sprinting his legs off in the previous ten minutes, his body was reacting to the over-exertion by retaining and increasing the atmospheric temperature almost suffocatingly.

Nervously tapping his foot against the tiled floor, Cloud swept a gaze across the hall yet again in search of his unpunctual target. He was all too ready to turn around and head back towards the exit when a sudden flash of white reached him out of the corner of his eye.

Doubtful of his perception, the blond spun on his heels to make a better assessment of what hopefully was the end of his wait. He rocked left and right, trying to catch another glimpse of what he'd seen the second before in between the streams of people running in all directions.

And when he was finally able to stare straight into the person's face, he did all that could be possibly done in that split second before the other became aware of his presence.

He ogled like an idiot.

Cloud felt as if the currents of time had actually stopped in his favour the moment he landed his eyes on the lean figure standing barely four feet away from him; a man so gorgeous that he could have definitely been mistaken for heaven's representative instead of Destiny-Org's. A man, almost a god, with soft, polished features carved in flawless ivory skin and with the most stunning feline-like eyes he had seen in his entire life.

As much as he realized that his shameless gawking would probably lead the man to think strangely, Cloud couldn't pull himself out of the reverie as easily as he'd gotten into it; the subject of his examination had moved himself about two feet closer to his standing position, without actually noticing him yet. From that place, the blond could then appreciate details that had been overlooked in the first evaluation.

Up-close, the hair that rose in two lengthy bangs to frame his face, and fell over his back in a cascade of silky strings, seemed to have a shine of its own, a silvery gleam that disproved the fact of it being decoloured or simply white.

Cloud was far beyond pleased, observing the man's graceful posture and moves; from the sway of his long mane, to the nervous shifting of his weight on each leg alternatively, there was something intriguing, fascinating and alarmingly attractive about him.

Something Cloud wouldn't give a rest to until it was his for the taking.

Not one to make his guests feel unwelcome, the blond stepped up towards the other man, holding a hand out the instant that those glowing emerald orbs fell on him from above.

"Sorry for the delay. I suppose you're from Destiny? The name's Cloud, nice to make your acquaintance."

The long-haired man blinked once and took a hold of the offered limb, all the while looking nonplussed from the rapid outburst of disordered greetings.

Regaining some of his cool he replied, "Sephiroth, from Destiny indeed. And I imagine you're the one they sent to meet me?"

Cloud nodded, uncertain if he'd sensed disappointment in the man's words, or if it had been his imagination playing games on him.

"Nice to meet you, Cloud." His name seemed to linger in the air for a moment after Sephiroth pronounced it, a sultry tinge present in his voice. Or so Cloud had liked to think.

In any case, the feeling was too nice to let it go unrepeated.

"So, I take it that the plane got caught up in the delay?" he asked, trying to initiate any sort of conversation to spare himself from the uncomfortable silence.

Sephiroth nodded. "One of the engines seemed to register a failure before the takeoff," he mentioned curtly.

"Then it's a good thing that they fixed it, or you'd have probably landed in a pancake of debris." Humouring himself with his own joke, Cloud cocked his head to find the blank face of his visitor pointedly staring at him.

Consciousness hit him then like a ten ton frying pan in the back of the head.

"Eh… sorry. I wasn't… I didn't… never mind. Forget what I said…" Scratching his scalp almost painfully fast, Cloud was surprised to hear a low rumbling sound from above. A soft vibration that sounded almost like…

…a chuckle?

"Yes, you're probably right. Wouldn't have liked to keep you waiting _that_ long."

Cloud discovered a whole new world as a smile drew itself on Sephiroth's lips; a small gesture – so casual and light-hearted – that morphed his face into the most beautiful and heart-wrenching image he'd ever seen. The man's green eyes shone with a light of their own, irradiating warmth and comfort in a degree that had the blond melting into a puddle of deeply infatuated goo.

And it was then when Cloud realized that, after losing himself to the taller man's intense presence for the first time, he'd be unable to live the rest of his life without it.

"I ehm… do you think we could…"

"_Think we could make out into forever, right here, right now?"_

"…go for a drink? I'm sure business can wait for a while." Cloud finally finished, his random, perverted thoughts discarded as the silver-haired man nodded quietly and walked ahead of him.

The blond was quick to follow, though not before capturing and embedding the picture of Sephiroth's perfectly shaped lower back in his mind. Having the courtesy to allow one's guests to lead the way could be so, so rewarding at times…

"So do you actually live here?" he asked as he walked alongside the other man.

"Indeed. In the seventh district to be precise," Sephiroth replied casually.

Cloud was surprised by the ease with which the representative seemed to give away such details. Perhaps he had felt he could trust him? Or was it that he had deliberately wanted to let him into that information?

Either way, he was determined to find out more, even if he had to poke his nose where it didn't belong.

"I would have thought someone like you would live elsewhere..." Lost in his musings, Cloud didn't realize that he had sounded particularly rude with his last statement. However, he became brutally aware of his mistake as soon as questioning green orbs fell back on him.

"I mean, someone with your style of life… job… you… get my point?" He tentatively tried to fix it as his hand shot out on reflex to rub the back of his neck.

Sephiroth's gaze remained fixed on its target, piercing through it like a paper doll. Cloud shuddered.

"Your eloquence doesn't really cease to amaze me." As the other man spewed his disapproving comment, Cloud felt as if someone had tossed the weight of the world over his head.

"But if I'm honest, I like it better that way. I'm too tired to keep up with the formalities of a normal meeting." Sephiroth finished his sentence with a weary but reassuring smile.

And Cloud felt as if heaven had just opened its gates, sending a choral of silver-haired angels to meet him on his way up.

"Well in that case, maybe we should trade numbers before the formalities vanish completely." With nothing to keep him from blatantly showing his interest in the other man, the blond snuck a hand in his pocket and pulled the small calling device out.

Side glancing, he could appreciate Sephiroth doing the same as he flipped his phone open and pressed in the five digits that composed Cloud's name.

Cloud just wrote four: S-e-p-h.

The other man wouldn't have to know about his given nickname until Cloud was free to say it out loud; something that, he hoped, would happen soon enough.

Raising his phone up high, he gestured towards the taller man to face his way, "Mind if I take a picture to add to the number?"

Sephiroth looked up an inch from his cell to stare into Cloud's. He blinked and averted his eyes towards the owner of the tool, as if asking for a better reason to take his picture than just adding it to the memo.

So that hadn't been the most subtle way to make an advance, Cloud thought, as a very inconvenient blush creep up to his cheeks from the base of his neck.

Why couldn't Earth be resilient for once and swallow him whole?

"You might want to do it today."

Then again, Earth could wait for its meal.

His voice low, Sephiroth brought him out of his brooding instantly. Befuddled, Cloud focused the camera lens back on his objective. He shifted the phone a bit until the small screen captured most of the other man's gorgeous face in it and then drew his finger down over the button to snap the shot.

Suddenly, a gush of wind streamed down the hall with almost violent swiftness, pushing past them with unyielding force. With barely enough time to move or cover, Cloud rose an arm to cover his face as Sephiroth imitated him, shoving a hand in his wildly flailing hair and raising his elbow to shield himself.

Then, in that very moment, when the wind fought obstinately to drive them out of the way, when people all around shouted and held on to their luggage for safety, when papers and unidentified objects flew about haphazardly with no true aim…

Then… time stopped.

And blue met green.

Sky met Earth.

Sun met Moon.

And Cloud knew that he had been sentenced to live the bond that fate had tied him to for eternity.

_Snap!_

Looking up, he realized that his finger had worked on its own in pressing down the button of his phone and sealing away the picture of the man standing before him. There he was, in an astounding capture of the previous moment, with his hand tangled up in an uncontrollable disarray of silver hair and a gleaming gaze that penetrated far beyond the camera, over at the person holding it.

Cloud felt his core burn with a vast amount of indefinite feelings as he pocketed the device and forced himself to regard his guest yet again. The wind had stopped as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the aftermath of the hurricaned event to take place among the crowds.

Sephiroth was trying to rearrange his hair, brushing it behind his ears in a vain attempt to regain its uniformity. Without a second thought, Cloud reached a hand out to retrieve a strand that had stuck itself between the man's lips; unconsciously, he had closed in the distance to the point that he was scarcely a foot away from him.

Softly tugging on the tress, the blond was allured by the extreme softness and by the clean, fresh scent that emanated from it. If only he could stay like that forever…

"Cloud…" Sephiroth's voice came out soft but firm, an uncomfortable sort of anxiety present in the way he pronounced the shorter man's name.

Cloud, however, remained still, his eyes hazed and glassy as he idly twirled the silver lock around his finger.

"This could sound stupid but…" Unlike Sephiroth's, Cloud's voice sounded husky and swathed in foreign, not-so-well-hidden emotions, "…do you think it's possible… do you believe in-"

"Excuse me, Sephiroth?"

Springing back to life, both men were pulled into the normal flow of time as a third voice intruded in their personal space. Or at least in the personal space Cloud had wanted to create by pressing into the unsteady-looking man with him.

They both spun their head at once to look upon the other person standing there; it was a young man, probably younger than the both of them, with iridescent emerald eyes and flamingly spiked red hair. His face was angular and thin, and he was acutely slim for his height. There was _something_ wild and almost feral about him in all of his appearance, yet it was hard to put a finger on it given the composure with which the man stood, silently surveying the subject of his querying.

"Who would like to know?" Sephiroth questioned in turn, pulling back from Cloud as he did so.

"Axel Cortés, from Oblivion Editions. I believe we had arranged a meeting for this morning but…" He fixed his eyes on Cloud, "I can see you've been distracted from the original plan."

Cloud watched him irritated as he opened his mouth to intercede, "Well I still fail to see what's your role in _this-_"

"You're from Oblivion Editions?" Sephiroth was the one to cut him short as he moved away towards Axel, "Then… who are you?"

With confusion written all over his face, he swiftly turned around to face the blond in search for an answer. To his aggravation, though, all he found was an expression as lost and puzzled as his own.

"I believe I can answer that." A fourth voice pushed in, sending the whole conversation into a spiral of non-stopping nonsense.

All heads turned to inspect the newcomer and, in that very moment, too many things were cleared up in a blinding flash of dawning realization.

_Oh, shit…_

"Cloud Strife, right?" A hand extended itself towards the alluded man, who simply gawked at it in sheer disbelief, "Xemnas Von Thamere, from Destiny-Org. A pleasure to find you here, albeit somewhat late…"

It was his common sense that finally got him to salute the man that he had originally been supposed to meet, although his mind was still reeling at an impossible speed through the maze of mixed up ideas and stray concepts.

So if Xemnas was from why did Sephiroth…?

"I'm afraid I might have led to this misunderstanding then, as I introduced myself as a part of Destiny. Destiny being the writer syndicate I happen to lead."

_Shit. Shitshitshitshit. **Shit**!_

"Well, this makes it all much more obvious," Axel said, shrugging slightly as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans.

It was all so obvious indeed – Sephiroth was a writer meeting a publisher for his latest novel, while Xemnas was the man who Larxene had mentioned to be arriving as his guest.

And in all, Cloud was just a lovesick idiot with hardly enough definition skills to discern between a hydrogen filled balloon and a wrecking ball flying directly his way.

Or between business and the object of his inexplicably impulsive affections for that matter.

"In that case, if everything's been cleared up, we might as well take it up to proceed with our respective meetings, don't you think?" It was Xemnas's turn to speak up. Everyone but Cloud nodded.

"Right then, a pleasure meeting you all. Sephiroth? Let's go." Turning on his heels, Axel proceeded to walk the short path left towards the exit without waiting to see if he was being followed.

On his account, Sephiroth checked the blond in front of him one last time. He almost felt sorry for the man, as his shoulders had slumped forward and his face was severely downcast in what seemed utmost disappointment. He didn't even look up to meet his eyes as the silver-haired man bid him a silent farewell and turned to trail on Axel's lead.

Yet, he hadn't walked more than three steps away when all of a sudden he felt a strong grip jerking his wrist from behind. Shocked, he looked back in time to meet crystal clear blue eyes boring into his as a hand darted out to get a hold of his long loose tendrils.

"What the-?"

"I don't care who you are or where you come from…" Cloud whispered, "But I swear, I won't let you go. Not like this. Not that easily."

And as if to sign and seal his adamant vow, he took the soft strand of hair to his lips and placed a kiss on it, with his eyes never leaving those of the abashed man who gaped at him.

Sephiroth finally found it in him to take his leave in a hasty march towards the exit, from where Axel had observed the scene impassively. Not turning back once to check behind him, the tall man swung the door open and walked out, promptly disappearing from Cloud's vision line altogether.

Left without a glimpse that his message had been well received, or even received at all, the blond simply stood there, lost to himself and his inner musings once again; to his schemes and plans, to his demanding need to be close to the other man…

"Hello? Strife? Sir?... _Cloud_??"

Because, regardless of what Sephiroth would have answered to his unfinished question, Cloud most definitely did believe in the possibility of falling in love at first sight.

------0------

**Author's Note: **Finally!

This one took me longer than expected… however, to make up for the tardiness, this chapter is fairly longer than the previous ones – exactly 6 pages longer and 7000 words in total. I really hope it was worth the wait… (twiddles fingers)

Now, in one of those Oscar-like moments, is when I'd like to thank the many people that have taken it from their time to read and review my work:

**To the reviewers**, because, if you're a writer you'll know how it feels like, and if you're not, I'll tell you: reviews make you impossibly happy. It makes you want to write the _whole_ story in a night just so that the people replying to your ideas are satisfied. It makes you stay awake thinking of new ideas to surprise the people that is faithfully reading your story and it most certainly makes you want to hug and tell them one by one how much you appreciate the effort it takes to press that purple button down there and write a paragraph worth of praise or rational criticism.

So, to **ChibiFrubaGirl, The Glass Slipper, Rabid Behemoth, Soul Writer of Dark Truth, Tala Mitena, Angel-Wings6, Higuchimon** and even the flamer that took his time to click on the link and say how bad my story is, **Trolly Polly** – Thank you. A lot. )

**To my Beta**, The Glass Slipper. Because you're simply great, need I say more? Thanks for giving up your book to correct my mistakes as soon as you possibly could and for letting me annoy you during classes. And for writing incredible ficlets for me and for being sweet and lovely in general. ;o;

**To the readers, **because even if you haven't had the time or the will to review, you're still the one that's given this story more than 500 views by now. And that, for me, is already an impressive number.

**To the people who'll press the review and "add to favourites" button as soon as their done reading this**, because… you'll have my undying love for eternity if you do. And very possibly a new chapter within the next couple of weeks. With Riku/Leon.

And some secrets starting to be unveiled.

And… (drumroll)

The next chapter will have a few Easter Eggs from the story hidden in my profile page.

So please, stay with me a little longer, yes? 3

_(This will most certainly be the last A/N of this length…)_


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